One Last Time
by RonohBloodyhell
Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione take the Hogwarts Express one last time after the war. A short look into the Golden Trio and Harry's thoughts on them. ONESHOT Golden Trio Fluff.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Potterverse, all rights go to the wonderful J.K Rowling.**

 **-One Last Ride-**

The sky shone a deep orange as a darkness fell on yet another chapter in Harry Potter's life. The sun seemed to descend slowly as he, Ron and Hermione walked slowly down to the train station in Hogsmeade- It was as though it too, wanted to forever remember the moment that had taken place just hours before.

They had finally done it- After months of hiding in the shadows, through days of self loathing and self doubt and even more days of heartache, torture and on the rare occasion triumph- Harry and his friends had finally won the war over evil. Voldemort was gone, but at a cost greater than any could ever have imagined. More than fifty innocent lives had been lost in the battle between light and dark.

Though they had never wanted to be heroes, that it is exactly what they had become. They had quickly become the last symbol of hope in a world that seemed to be getting darker every single second. They remained quiet as they walked, they did not need to talk- they knew eachother well enough to offer comfort through mere company.

Anyone who didn't look close enough would never be able to see the difference in the three of them. They wouldn't notice the way their bones stuck out through a lack of good food. They wouldn't notice all three of them flinch at loud noises or the way that they clung to eachother for support, rarely letting anyone so much as touch them. No one noticed the way remained close enough to grab eachother at all times or the way that Harry in particular always kept one had near his wand. Few would notice the way Ron constantly kept looking behind him as though he was expecting an attack at any time or the way Hermione would let nobody touch her right arm. Nobody but her boys knew of the mark that resided there.

No would notice their gaunt expressions and dull eyes- eyes that had seen too much for ones so young. No longer were they the bright eyed eleven year olds who were witnessing McGonagalls Animagus transformatiom for the first time all those years ago. No, they were war veterans- veterans of a war they did not chose to be a part of, but had inherited from the generation before them.

Together they boarded the Hogwarts Express, choosing to sit in the same compartment they had used every time they had used the express.

 _'Muffilato,'_ Hermione whispered, pointing her wand at the door. She sighed _, 'Finally, a little peace and quiet. Do you think our lives willl ever be normal again?'_ she asked Harry and Ron.

 _'Probably not,'_ Ron responded, _'but when have our lives ever actually been normal?'_

A small, pained laugh escaped Harry's lips, _'got that right mate.'_

Somewhere in the distance, a whistle blew, signalling that the train was about to leave the station. Smoke began to billow from from the Hogwarts Express as it began it's long journey back to Kings Cross Station. The trio did not speak again for the rest of the journey, instead choosing to sit quietly together and enjoy eachothers company.

Harry turned and leaned against the side of the compartment, choosing to rember the past rather than the horrors of the present.

 _HP: 'what happens if i wave my wand and nothing happens?'_  
 _RW: 'throw it away and punch him on the nose.'_

 _HG: 'me! books! and cleverness! there are more important things- friendship and bravery and- oh Harry- be careful!'_

Harry sighed to himself, Ron and Hermione had been there ever since the very beginning. They had had their ups and down throughout the years, but then again, what friendship hadn't? There was the time in year that Hermione had gone to McGonagall about the mysterious Firebolt Harry had recieved at Christmas, and also the time Ron thought Harry had put his own name in the Goblet of Fire. However, in the end, they had always made up and become beteer friends because.

 _'I love them,'_ he thought to himself, _'there is no way I could ever have done any of this without them'_

 _RW: 'we'll be there, Harry._  
 _HP: 'what?_ '  
 _RW: 'at your aunt and uncle's house. and then we'll go with you wherever you're going.'_  
 _HP: 'no-'_  
 _HG: 'You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. we've had time, haven't we?_ '  
 _RW: 'we're with you whatever happens.'_

Harry turned and smiled at his best friends, who smiled back brightly at him. They were his family- They were everything that he had ever wanted growing up and throughout his life. He would never let them forget what they meant to him though everything would take.

As the trained slowed to a stop at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Harry again turned to look at Ron and Hermione.

Ron Weasley. Perhaps the most insecure of the three, always thought himself to be the least talented of his family, the least loved- or so he once thought. Today, as he stood and grabbed his stuff out of the rack, he looked every bit the battle worn hero. He had aided the downfall of Voldemort in his own right, become a key player on the chess set that was life. Move by move, he had helped turn the world on it's head and make a difference. Harry couldn't help but be incredibly proud of the man and friend he had become. He was king the world had needed to see.

Hermione. Always the samartest of the trio, they would have been dead long ago if it hadn't been for her sheer brilliance. As a Muggle-Born, she was seen to be less than anyone else, not worth the time. But, through effort and time she too had changed the world. She too looked the part of the hero, grisly and battle worn as she grabbed her stuff and made to leave the train. She was the Brightest Witch of Her Age. The brains the world needed to see.

As Harry made to also grab to his stuff, he realised that he too, was a hero in his own right. He had had this thrust upon him from the very beginning, yet he had always done the best he could and somehow come out on top. Though he would always be the first to admit he was sometimes lucky and had help from the beginning. Nobody else had thrown the final curse though, and brought about Voldemort's demise. He was the The Boy Who Lives, The Chosen One, The Man Who Won.

Together, they were the Golden Trio. Three parts of a whole- none could live if the others weren't there. They needed eachother, they thrived together and together, they would continue to set the world alight, one day at a time.

One by one, they linked arms and walked through the wall into Kings Cross Station. Back to reality, back to not just being Harry, Ron and Hermione but back to being The Chosen One, The King and the Brightest Witch of her age.

So as they walked together into the night, they could be happy in the comfort that okay, they would never live a totally normal life but, at least they eachother. They had eachother in their own little family.

They were the Golden Trio and for them that would always be enough.


End file.
